


The Draco Wears Prada

by voxangelus



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-01
Updated: 2012-04-01
Packaged: 2017-11-02 21:41:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/373633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voxangelus/pseuds/voxangelus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being in an "old boys" club has its advantages.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Draco Wears Prada

Hermione Granger had been busy since the War. She had clawed her way up the ladder to become the youngest female senior prosecutor in Ministry of Magic history, and she'd done it in stilettos and dress robes, not under a desk in lingerie. She enjoyed ruffling the feathers of the Old Boys' club that was Magical Law Enforcement.

Being in an Old Boys' club had some advantages, the old adage of 'turnabout is fair play' being one of them. She was ogled and leered at daily in her trim suits and tasteful dress robes, so she didn't feel at all bad when one morning she spotted the most delicious-looking bum leaning over her secretary's desk in a pair of dove grey, pinstripe trousers. She leaned against her office doorjamb and allowed her eye to travel upward along the lines of a firm, strong back wrapped in a matching pinstripe waistcoat. White-blond hair brushed the collar of the crisp, snowy-white dress shirt. Matching robes were slung over the very fit wizard's arm, and the cuffed trousers showcased shiny, black, Italian leather shoes.

She barely had time to school her expression of lustful appreciation into something resembling polite indifference when she heard her secretary giggle at something yummy-bum said in a low tone. 

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy, Ms. Granger is in this morning. You can go right back; her office door is open."

Draco Malfoy. It would figure, the first fanciable bum she'd seen in months, and it belonged to him. She hadn't seen him except in passing since Harry and Pansy's wedding three years ago – she as Harry's attendant and Draco as Pansy's. They sat together, shared a few dances, and gossiped about their careers. Draco was running his father's import and export business and found himself enjoying it, and Hermione was waiting to hear the news of her promotion to senior prosecutor. It had been a pleasant evening. While she hadn't expected him to owl her for a date, she had been discomfited at the time to find that she wouldn't have minded. And yet, there had been no owl.

As though he could tell she'd been checking him out, Draco's gaze slid from the neckline of Hermione's black, Chanel wrap dress to the toes of her red, patent Manolo Blahnik stilettos, his cool grey eyes igniting a slow-smouldering spark deep in her gut. Oh no, she didn't mind Draco Malfoy at all, and it confused the hell out of her.

"Mr. Malfoy, what a pleasant surprise," said Hermione, surprised to find that she meant it, "please, come in."


End file.
